


and merrily did sing

by orphan_account



Series: said the spider to the fly [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jonathan doesn’t fall asleep, this time. Just stands and turns away from his desk after recording a statement to find Michael stood silently by the wall behind him, watching him.It makes his heart thunder in his chest immediately, which is— it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to finding Michael hovering behind you like that. It’s a fear response.(except that it isn’t, not really)





	and merrily did sing

**Author's Note:**

> hello i come bearing more weird filth

Jonathan doesn’t fall asleep, this time. Just stands and turns away from his desk after recording a statement to find Michael stood silently by the wall behind him, watching him.

It makes his heart thunder in his chest immediately, which is— it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to finding Michael hovering behind you like that. It’s a fear response.

(except that it isn’t, not really)

Michael smiles once he’s seen it, humming softly in a way that makes him have to swallow a few times before he can speak.

“What are you doing here.” It comes out shakier than he’d hoped for, and Michael laughs.

“I came to see you, Archivist. Didn’t you miss me?”

It should be easy to say no. There should be no question about it. He thinks about saying no, and the x-mark cut into his chest burns sharply and unexpectedly, forces him to bite his tongue to hold back a noise.

Michael’s smile only grows wider.

It stalks forward, then - something predatory in the movement even though it wouldn’t be from anyone else - until Jonathan is backed up against his desk, the edge of it digging into his skin as Michael looms over him. His face is uncomfortably close to Michael’s chest and his own chest feels tight and choked, like he can’t get enough air with it so close.

And then, abruptly, it’s moving away fast enough to leave his head spinning, folding itself casually into his chair, and crooking its finger to invite him closer.

The fact that coming closer would be a terrible idea only occurs to him once he’s straddling Michael’s lap, with no memory of actually deciding to move or even of the moving itself. He’s just seeing its hand move, and then he’s in its lap, and anything in between that feels as though it’s been burned out of his awareness in some way. He _is_ aware now that this is a terrible idea, though. That the fact he doesn’t seem to have much in the way of an actual choice about it at this point should make it worse, more terrifying.

(it shouldn’t be calming, certainly)

Michael seems pleased with him, and it hums and reaches up to pluck his glasses off his face, leaving Jonathan squinting at it uncertainly. He’s not sure where it puts them after that, but the next thing he knows its hand is back and stroking over the bones of his face, slow and careful. Jonathan doesn’t quite dare move as it does, barely dares to breathe.

He remembers how sharp its hands can be, after all.

Michael keeps that up for… well. He’s not sure how long it goes on, only that his thoughts get fuzzy and indistinct the longer it continues, fractals blurring behind his eyelids whenever they slip shut without his consent. Only that the time with his eyes shut starts to outweigh the time with them open, and ‘time’ starts to become something he’s not entirely able to measure by.

It’s one of Michael’s laughs that brings him back to himself. Makes him jolt awake - not from sleep, exactly, but something deeper - to find himself still in its lap, but… wearing rather less clothing. Wearing only his shirt, in fact. Had he really been so out of it as to allow Michael to strip him without him even realising?

Michael laughs again a moment later.

“Is something the _matter_ , Archivist?”

It would be a lie to say he’s not okay with this, no matter how much he knows he _shouldn’t_ be. And the warning twinge at his chest reminds him that he doesn’t think he _can_ lie to Michael at this point, another development that he knows should be terrifying and yet—

He shakes his head. “No. Michael.”

The thing looks like the cat that got the cream at that, laughing quietly to itself and running one hand slowly down Jonathan’s side to rest on his hip.

“Would you like to have me inside you, Archivist?”

He apparently has _some_ sense of self-preservation left, because he asks, “Would that be safe?”

It cocks its head, and smiles a too-wide smile, and doesn’t answer.

“…I would,” he bites out, and its smile gets painfully wide.

“That’s good,” it says, and grips his hip in a way he suspects will rub the skin raw if it keeps up, and…

It gets a little hard to follow, from there. The same blurring and shifting fractals covering his thoughts, the same inability to focus on what’s actually _happening_.

When he’s able to think again, he feels split-open. Michael is inside him in a way that fits with the positioning and the fact it had had him straddle his lap, but somehow isn’t what he’d expected from something like Michael, and he feels over-full in a stretched, unnatural way that ought to be unpleasant. He can taste blood, too, and works out after a moment that his nose is bleeding again.

He cries out when Michael starts to move, and it reaches up to put one knife-sharp finger over his lips and smear the blood dripped onto them.

“Quiet, Archivist,” it says softly. “You wouldn’t want someone to hear and come running, would you? What a sight they’d see…”

That’s enough to quiet him, although he has to bury his face in Michael’s shoulder to _keep_ himself quiet as it moves harder and faster inside him. If anything it seems pleased by that, though, humming and crooning softly into his ear until he feels blood start to drip from his ears as well as his nose.

(he thinks, in a moment of odd clarity, that perhaps he ought to invest in iron supplements if Michael intends to make this a regular occurrence)

The same as last time, he doesn’t know how long it goes on. It could be minutes or it could be hours or it could be days, and though Jonathan thinks somewhere between the first two is the most likely it _feels_ like the latter. Feels like Michael has been pressed up inside him and splitting him open for an eternity, occasionally shivering and crooning and pulsing inside him in a way that sends him following it every time, even as he knows that he should be concerned; that whatever substance it’s releasing inside of him cannot possibly be something he should actually _want_ inside of him.

He only knows that when it finally pulls out he feels even more bereft this time, that he clutches at Michael and it laughs and allows him to for a while before gently removing him from its lap and urging him back into his clothes. He only knows that the gentleness of its movements and its voice should be a _concern_ rather than a comfort - that whether it is predator or carrion-feeder or both, Michael isn’t to be trusted and any ‘comforting’ behavior is going to be calculated to lower his guard and lead him to some kind of ruin, rather than anything he should take actual comfort.

He only knows that, despite that, every soft or approving noise or word that falls from its lips makes his mind fog pleasantly and fractals blur at the edges of his vision. That when Michael produces a wet cloth from who-knows-where and slowly wipes the blood away from his nose and ears, he doesn’t even care about the fact that it does so only to remove the final traces that hadn’t been caught already by its tongue.

He _should_ care about all of these things, and he knows that.

(but he’ll get to that some other time, he thinks, when Michael isn’t folding itself back into his chair and letting him fall asleep on it, the cloth running over his skin now and then whenever the lullaby it’s humming makes his ears bleed again)


End file.
